


Que Sera

by Gleipnir



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, based off the movie heathers, expect it to be bottom!trick, he is such a power bottom, srsly guys, u need 2 come 2 ur senses, will be smut, wtf even is patrick topping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6360751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleipnir/pseuds/Gleipnir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon, Ryan, and Gerard sit in pearl white lawn chairs, each of them in form-fitting slacks and polos which were almost equal in tightness. Ryan sits perched in the middle of them all, as he likes to be the center of attention, glancing at the two other boys flanking him before grabbing the handle of his croquet mallet and standing. Gerard and Brendon jump to follow suit, quickly grabbing their own. The yellow, red, and green accents of their mallets glimmer in the sunlight as they trampled a row of bright flowers, continuing to walk gracefully in almost perfect synchronization towards three balls matching in color to the mallets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Que Sera

**Author's Note:**

> This story is exactly that, a story. I do not believe this happened, and I do not ship Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz together seriously (read: I'm writing this for the hell of it). Please do not share this story/series with any members of Fall Out Boy or their family/friends. And in the (one in a million) case that one you are in fact one of the members of FOB or their family/friends please, for the love of all that is good, do not read this. It will be uncomfortable for you and embarrassing for me for many reasons.

Brendon, Ryan, and Gerard sit in pearl white lawn chairs, each of them in form-fitting slacks and polos which were almost equal in tightness. Ryan sits perched in the middle of them all, as he likes to be the center of attention, glancing at the two other boys flanking him before grabbing the handle of his croquet mallet and standing. Gerard and Brendon jump to follow suit, quickly grabbing their own. The yellow, red, and green accents of their mallets glimmer in the sunlight as they trampled a row of bright flowers, continuing to walk gracefully in almost perfect synchronization towards three balls matching in color to the mallets. 

Brendon walks up to his yellow ball, bringing the mallet back slightly before giving it a light tap. It goes nowhere.

“Damn,” he sighs, not disappointed in the least. “Your turn, Ryan.”

“No Brendon, it’s Gerards turn,” Ryan corrects with his usual edge of bitchiness.

Ryan looks over at Gerard to see him reading Moby Dick.

“Gerard,” Ryan demands.

“Sorry, Ryan,” Gerard replies dropping the book, walking towards the ball, and adjusting his stance.

His mallet makes contact with the ball. Ryan looks briefly at the two other boys, a smirk adorning his face. He picks up his red ball, giving it a kiss for luck then dropping it to the ground. He hits the ball and it soars in the air and lands itself on Patrick’s forehead. The boys giggle delightfully at this, leaving him dumbfounded.

____________________Pat’s POV____________________

 

I plop myself down on the stairs as people flood the halls, pulling out my journal and opening it to a page I had bookmarked with a pen.

“Dear Diary,” I scribble down quickly. “Ryan told me he ‘teaches people real life.’ He said: ‘Real life sucks losers dry. If you wanna fuck with the eagles, you have to learn how to fly.’ I said: ‘So, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly. ’ He said: ‘Yes.’ I said: ‘You’re beautiful-”

My writing is interrupted by a shove from Brendon that completely jostles me. After recovering, I glare up at him.

“Come on, Patrick,” he commands.

“What is your damage, Brendon.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t blame me, blame Ryan. He told me to haul your ass into the caf pronto.” He tilts his chin up to point to the boy standing across from him. “Back me up, Gerard.”

Gerard nods his head in confirmation.

“Yeah, he really wants to talk to you, Patrick.” 

I know it isn’t as crucial as they are making it out to be, but I have had the opportunity to learn that Gerard, Brendon, and Ryan are the ultimate primadonnas so I gather my stuff.

“Okay,” I huff. “I'm going.”

We walk into the cafeteria and it's buzzing with activity as per usual. As we approach Ryan turns around. 

“Hello, Ryan,” I greet feigning kindness.

“Patrick,” he replies. “Finally.” 

There is a particularly evil gleam in his eyes and I know that what he was about to put me up to is something terrible.

“I got a note of Gabe Saporta’s. I need you to forge a hot and horny but realistically low key note in Gabe’s handwriting and we’ll slip it onto Martha Dumptruck’s tray.”

“Shit, Ryan,” I start. “I don’t have anything against Martha Dunnstock.” 

Martha already gets enough crap for her appearance.

Ryan scoffs.

“You don’t have anything for her either,” he reasons. “Come on, it would be very. The note’ll give her shower-nozzle masturbation material for weeks.”

Gerard and Brendon snicker at his statement. I am still apprehensive.

“I’ll think about it,” I murmur sneaking a look at him.

“Don’t think,” he sneers.  
We all inspect Martha as she pays for her lunch.

Ryan turns back around.

“Patrick needs something to write on,” he states, snake eyes piercing through the boy in green. “Gerard, bend over.”

Fixing the paper on Gerard’s back with my pen pressed against it, I watch Ryan expectantly.

“Dear Martha,” he begins with mock earnest. “You’re so sweet....”

_________________________________________________

 

Across the lunchroom the two star football players were having a discussion.

“I’m telling you man, It would be so righteous to be in a Patrick Stump-Ryan Ross sandwich,” Gabe Saporta declares.

Travie McCoy laughs a crude laugh.

“Hell yes,” he agrees. “I wanna get a Patrick and put him on my Johnson, a just start spinning him around like a goddamn pinwheel!” 

They’re both laughing now.

“Punch it in,” Travie says offering his fist to Gabe.

Their knuckles brush and then they are laughing some more. 

____________________Pat’s POV____________________

I hand the finished note to Ryan and he reads it over. The note makes another transfer over to Brendon. Him and Ryan share a smile, one that stays on Ryan’s face as he watches Brendon plant the note on Martha’s tray. 

At last, we take a seat at one the tables.

“Westerburg feeds the world,” I hear Andy proclaim. “C’ mon people! Let’s give that leftover lunch money to people that don’t have lunches. Those tater-tots you throw away…”

“God, aren’t they fed yet,” Brendon derides. “Do they even have Thanksgiving in Africa?”

“Oh sure,” I answer. “Pilgrims, Indians… tater-tots. It’s a real party continent.”

“Stump,” Ryan interjects. “Guess what today is.”

I take a minute to consider my response.

“Lunchtime poll?”

“So what’s the question,” Brendon asks, Gerard repeating the inquiry.

Ryan looks up from the paper.

“Goddamn, Gerard. You were with me in study hall when I thought of it.”

“I forgot,” Gerard stresses.

“You’re such a pillowcase.”

Ryan is such a bitch.

“This wouldn’t be that bizzaro thing you were babbling about over the phone last night, would it?” He had kept me on the telephone all evening with his boring ranting.

“I told Joe that if he gives me another political topic, I’d spray Dorito chunks.” Ryan tells me while we stand up.

As we walk, I catch eyes with a boy lurking in the corner of the cafeteria at a table with one other person. He offers me a playful smile and I send a coy one back.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is shit. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and if you've seen the movie maybe comment your favorite part.


End file.
